


Content to Be

by Trishp



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 05:23:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14442270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trishp/pseuds/Trishp
Summary: Three weeks after the Battle of Crait, Kylo Ren is coming to terms with his new role as Supreme Leader of the First Order and Rey's rejection.





	Content to Be

**Author's Note:**

> Some of my thoughts on the continuation of the story after TLJ.  
> Thanks for reading! This is the first time I've written something for fandom (actually, the first time I've ever written anything creative at all). Happy to receive constructive feedback! Hope you like it!

Content to Be  
The Finalizer drifted silently, ominously in deep space. A silver shard against the inky blackness punctuated only by points of light flickering in the distance. At its main viewport stood an ominous figure dressed in black, looking out into the depth of space. Tall and imposing, the figure radiated strength and power. A cowl, pulled up over his head, hid his eyes and the rest of his features from view, except for a glimpse of a pale cheekbone rent with an angry red scar.  
The figure was gazing intensely into space. Searching… Searching, intently with his entire body and mind bent to the task. Parting the thick blackness of space with his pursuit. Seeking one single objective, as if he could will it into being with the intensity and unbending focus of his mind. His gloved fingers tensed and balled with concentration as he reached out with the force. Flashes of life, the signatures of other beings and creatures and forms flew through his mind as he pulled and sifted and discarded, drawing the galaxy to him, seeking and searching for his prize  
The sound of hurried footsteps approaching shattered his concentration, snapping him back to the present. He sighed audibly. Once again, his mind was cognisant of the warship’s prodigious operations. Of the background hum of reports being communicated, section leaders giving clipped instructions to their subordinates, the beeping of monitors and scanners and droids, the metallic echo of stormtrooper boots and, further away, the sound of his fighters returning from patrol.  
Still looking through the glass, the figure waited for the officer he could feel standing behind him to summon the courage to report. “Sir, they are ready for you now,” the officer finally managed, his voice coming out at an unnatural pitch.  
“Very well”, The Supreme Leader replied, turning quickly on his heels.  
A short time later, back in the privacy of his own quarters, Ren sat on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, trying to still the turmoil in his mind. He was no longer the imposing figure that his officer had hesitated to address on the bridge earlier. The façade of command had fallen away once he was out of view to reveal the man inside. Posture bent and lines of fatigue on his face. A man who was very much struggling with the burden of leading the galaxy’s largest and most powerful military order, along with the debilitating hurt and loneliness consuming him since the day Rey had left.  
The white noise that had been steadily growing inside him for days had reached a pitch that afternoon as he attended yet another of Hux’s briefings. He swore the man was trying to finish him off using the ennui of meetings and administration instead of his blaster this time.  
As he listened to the droning on and on of a report on the state of the First Order trade alliances on the Outer Rim, he knew he was either going to scream aloud or run somebody through with the point of his saber if he had to sit through another minute of the tedium. Maybe even himself. Unable to keep his self-composure any longer he pushed himself abruptly back from the table and stood to full height, ignoring the frightened stares of the officers near him as they almost physically jumped back, stumbling over themselves to create distance. “I’ll be in my quarters if there is anything urgent that requires my attention”, he announced to no one in particular, marching out of the room and using the force to slam the door behind him before anyone could say a word.  
Outside the briefing room Ren’s knees buckled and he floundered into a wall before righting himself, the physical and emotional exhaustion of the past few weeks finally crashing over him in waves that left him gasping for breath. With his presence of mind quickly failing, he stumbled down the corridor towards his quarters. Luckily it was devoid of troops at that particular moment. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see the Supreme Leader in such a state. Without even stopping to key in his entry code Ren assaulted the keypad with his hand. It sparked in protest but by the third punch it finally gave way, releasing the door mechanism, allowing him to pitch into the room. He reached his bed before his legs and fragile self-command finally gave way, his sabre falling from his belt onto the covers next to him.  
As the haze cleared a little, Ren sat on the edge of his bed, trying to still the turmoil in his mind and his racing breath. Without prompting visions began to swim before his eyes. Of blinding white sand and blood red salt. Of the Resistance’s laughable efforts to defend themselves in the face of the Order’s superior weaponry and fire power, and of his final stand against Skywalker. It had been three weeks. Three weeks since the Battle of Crait. Three weeks since the force bond had connected him to Rey one last time and he watched her leave in steeled silence with the remnant of his enemy. Since she looked him in the eyes and closed the door of the Falcon without a word. Without even an acknowledgment. The act had brought him to his knees and pinned him there, knocking the wind from his lungs and the strength from his battled wearied body. Even now, so many weeks later, the memory of her leaving still crippled him.  
He wasn’t sure how long he had remained there on the floor of the abandoned Rebel command centre, feeling the presence of Rey and his mother growing more distant as they sped away from Crait and made the jump to light speed. Until he could feel them no longer. Until there was only silence within him. Now he was truly alone. No longer a slave to any master. He had succeeded in killing his past almost completely. Snoke was dead, Luke was gone. His mother had fled, abandoning him once more. As it had always done, her loyalty to the Rebellion took precedence over everything. Safeguarding their precious lives and their precious cause had always come first. She knew he was there on Crait; he knew she could feel his presence in the force, just as he could feel hers. But she had chosen to stay closeted away with her Commanders and friends in the Resistance. Tucked away safely behind metal and stone instead of standing before him, looking into the eyes of the son she had not seen for almost a decade. Her only son. He tasted metal on his tongue. The thought was so bitter he wanted to bite through the flesh of his lower lip and taste his own blood mixing with the bitter gall inside him.  
Rey  
This time she had taken Rey with her. His Rey. Rey who had declared he wasn’t alone. She had held his gaze and reached out to him, sealing her promise not with words but with the press of her soft skin against his fingertips. And with it, she had chased away just a little of the darkness within him, allowing him to hope that he wouldn’t always have to live with such despair. With the feeling of abandonment that sat inside him like a stone. That there was someone who cared enough to choose him. Who would not throw him away for something better or more worthy.  
And then she had left. Abandoned him unconscious on the floor of Snoke’s throne room after he had risked everything to save her. Running away, back to the safety of the Resistance and her friends. And then fleeing with them to some unknown place on other side of the galaxy.  
Ren’s head sunk deeper into his hands. They gripped the back of his head, intertwined in his hair as he sat there, almost doubled over, fighting the need to retch. He pulled at his scalp relishing the discomfort. He wondered what it would feel like to rip his long locks out in chunks. He could immerse himself in that pain, in the company of that familiar friend.  
He knew it was the epitome of weakness to feel this way. To be crippled by a girl he only barely knew. To be crushed by his own sentiment. Shame washed over him as he remembered who he was –Supreme Leader of the First Order and Master of the Knights of Ren, feared from the Core Worlds to the Outer Rim for his force powers, his formidable strength and his unforgiving temper. For more than a decade he had crossed from one side of the galaxy to the other, metering out the First Order’s justice and vengeance, with his barely supressed rage rippling out before him like a forcefield. Like a protective garment. There was no one who could stand before him. No one who would not prostrate themselves before him and his scarlet sabre and beg for their lives, even if it did them little good. And yet here he was almost prostrate in his own quarters, the anguish inside him too much to allow him even to sit upright.  
Surely, it was not normal to feel like this? Given his lack of experience with the opposite sex, he couldn’t really be sure. He let out a small ironic laugh at the thought of confiding in someone. In Hux or even Phasma, the closest thing he had to comrades. No, there was no one he could turn to, even if he had wanted to.  
Self-loathing washed over him as he reluctantly acknowledged his overpowering desire for Rey. Yes he was desperate. He disgusted himself. But he’d never shared intimacy with a women before. During his years at Luke’s Academy contact with the opposite sex had been strongly discouraged. The way of the Jedi was piety and self-sacrifice. It was not right, at least from Luke’s point of view, for the Jedi to build temporal relationships. It only distracted them from the greater task at hand – bringing peace to the galaxy. Padawans were taught from the beginning that close relationships could only hinder them from the path to their destiny. The life of a Jedi was brutal aestheticism. They needed to learn to rely on the force to meet their deepest needs. It was one of the reasons he had such little contact with his parents after that. No, the Jedi Academy was no place for such a coming of age.  
After he fled the academy the ministrations he received under Snoke were entirely different. The Supreme Leader encouraged him to express the burning emotions within him. Ambition. Power. Desire. Fear. His longings and passions were fed and fanned until they burned bright within him. But only so they could be channelled to the Supreme Leader’s cause. With no other outlet, desire dwindled and loathing and rage became his greatest weapons. They were spent time and time again as he killed and maimed and tortured at Snoke’s command, until there was nothing left inside. Until the feelings were gone and he was just numb all the time.  
For his efforts Snoke would bring him rewards – toys for his favourite apprentice. Young girls (or boys if he had requested), usually from worlds the First Order had enslaved. Beautiful young women who trembled in fear at his presence. He turned away each and every one of them. Not because they were not attractive or because he did not desire them, but because he was not interested in taking them by force. Because that was all it would amount to. Ren was not an animal. He knew how afraid they were of him. But a small and secret part of him also wanted to give himself to someone who cared. Someone he could connect with on more than just a physical level. He wanted something more than just the crashing of bodies for a moment. He wanted someone who loved him, if that was even possible. So he set his mind on other things instead. While the emptiness and desperation seethed inside him he focused on harnessing the dark power of the force, pitting it against Snoke’s enemies as he was ordered to. It was the only way, Snoke assured him, that the bitter conflict raging inside him would be silenced.  
No… there had been no one he had felt anything for before Rey.  
He groaned aloud. His mind yearned to see her again. To feel her presence… even just to speak with her. Even if she was still angry with him, as no doubt she was after Crait. He’d be a monster to her again. He imagined her glaring at him. Her face flushed and scrunched with anger with the effort of telling him exactly what she felt about him. How much she loathed him. But at least she stood up to him. It had been a long time since anyone had done that.  
He did feel a small pang of remorse for causing her pain, but what could he have done? They were, after all, fighting on opposites sides of the war. Luke and the Resistance were legitimate military targets and he could not afford to show leniency as the new Supreme Leader, especially with Hux standing over him. He desperately needed to demonstrate that he was more than Snoke’s little pet. That he could command the loyalty and respect of the First Order’s military might in his own stead.  
He sighed and shifted his weight on the side of the bed, trying to feel a little more at ease. Even the thought of Rey’s anger and loathing did little to stem the storm he could feel inside him. His body betrayed him. It ached with a need that would not be silenced. He just wanted to hold her in his arms. To feel her weight and warmth pressed against him. To feel the softness of her hair and skin. To hold her would be enough. To ease the aching loneliness, even for a minute.  
He had panicked when she left him. He had so desperately wanted her to stay. If he could have gone down on his knees to beg her, he would have. Ren could not imagine getting through the days without her. She understood what it was like to be alone, and he had grown close to her, even in such a short time. Maybe even to rely on her, just a little.  
Even if she’d had to leave. If she couldn’t bring herself to stay by his side in the First Order, he could have at least felt her presence in the force through the bond. Just knowing she was alive, somewhere out in the galaxy, was enough. During the times the bond between them had been silent, he’d often found himself brushing against her presence in his mind. She was there. But now the bond sat dormant. It was closed, and he was shut off from her. She was gone…  
“Argh… “  
He cried out aloud in the silence of his room, picking up his sabre lying next to him and throwing it with all his strength at the wall. “Frack”, he screamed, louder this time, not caring whether anyone outside in the corridor thought he was losing his mind. Frack them all, frack the entire universe. His face was contorted with anger and pain and his fingers twitched, seeking someone to pay for his pain. Anything that would prove a distraction.  
Yet as he fought to regain control of his emotions, the force around him hummed and surged. Invisible, concentric circles rippled out from him, like a pebble breaking the surface of a pond. Moving further and further away until they reached someone on the other side of the galaxy. Someone who was listening. “Ben…?”  
***  
“Ben…?” Another voice besides his own broke the silence of his room.  
Ren’s head snapped up from his hands and his eyes widened as he frantically searched the room for the source of that familiar voice.  
“Rey”? He managed to croak. “Rey? Is that you?”  
A presence materialised and grew solid beside him. He felt a weight settle on the side of the bed next to him, the mattresses creaking slightly in protest. He exhaled quickly and turned his head to see two hazel eyes locked on him, widened in concern.  
Rey.  
She studied him quietly. The silence stretched out between them but neither of them made any attempt to break it. He could see her eyes searching his face and he wondered what she was thinking. Her expression was hard to read: thoughtful and guarded, but not necessarily hostile. She looked into his eyes, not breaking his gaze. Was she going to berate him for Crait? For causing the death of her Master? For firing on her friends? He wondered if she was going to slap him. One of Snoke’s most frequent pastimes was to bloody his face. As if his very features offended him, Snoke often took pains to blur them out. At least his mask came in handy afterwards. Hux and Phasma thankfully never saw the brutal aftermath of his post-mission de-briefings (failings…). He braced himself internally for the barrage from Rey that was no doubt coming.  
“Are you ok…?” Rey said quietly. Ren’s eyes widened at the unexpected question and his stomach clenched. His mouth opened as if to respond to her question, but then he shut it again quickly. What could he really say? I’m in agony and I’m struggling to get through each day with this aching loneliness inside me. No, there was no way he could voice that to her.  
He opened his mouth again, trying to find the right words… the right response so she wouldn’t leave. “I’m ok…” he managed to get out. Her eyes narrowed further. As he waited for her to speak, he noticed the freckles on the bridge of her nose, and the circles under her eyes. She was tired too, he thought. He wondered what the Rebellion had her doing. No doubt they were falling over themselves to have such a powerful force user at their service, especially after all the years of Luke’s absence. She would soon be militarised and put into battle just as he had been, at least if his mother knew what she was doing…  
Ren returned his eyes to Rey’s. They were slightly softer now. Hazel with flecks of warm gold. He’d always thought they were beautiful. She shifted very slightly on the bed next to him, turning to him as she slowly brought her hand up to his face, watching him carefully as she did so. The tips of her fingers brushed ever so gently against his cheek. Just the lightest fluttering touch against his skin. The smallest caress. But it was enough for Ren to draw his breath in sharply, as if she had scorched him with her sabre. A flash of emotion from him pulsed down the bond, but she didn’t react or pull away. With gentle eyes she raised her hand to him again, this time tracing the scar she had given him with her thumb. She followed its course from under his eye to his jawline, her other fingers ghosting his cheek. He let out some kind of a noise before biting his lower lip in shame, trying to push down the emotion that had welled up inside him and had escaped before he could stop it. He dropped his gaze, looking down at the floor, a slight flush colouring his cheeks and the tips of his ears.  
Actually. I’m not ok, he wanted to say. But why would she care anyway.  
“I know” Rey responded. He snapped his eyes to her face again in surprise. He hadn’t spoken aloud but she must have heard his words through the bond. “I can see you aren’t ok” she whispered, speaking aloud this time. Tears welled in his eyes, betraying him. Maker, he wasn’t going to cry in front of her was he? He could feel compassion emanating from her but his thoughts were a blur as he tried to make sense of what she was saying and what it meant.  
He bowed his head, no longer able to meet her eyes, trying and failing miserably to reign in the storm of emotions inside him. His feelings were always so transparent. After everything that had happened, was she still concerned about him he wondered? Even just a little?  
A small movement beside him startled him. He tensed, his hair-trigger sense of self preservation clicking in for just a moment. But Rey was reaching for him, pulling him into a gentle embrace. His body trembled at the feel of her hands lightly resting on his back. She gently rubbed his shoulder blade with her finger tips and he cried out quietly.  
After a time she shifted back against his bed head, bringing him with her so he could rest his weight against her small frame. He held his head up for a moment before very slowly bringing it to rest against the neckline of her tunic, his face turned towards her shoulder. It was warm there. Ren could feel the soft texture of the fabric against his cheekbone. Part of his face was actually lying against her bare skin. He closed his eyes again, listening to the sound of her breathing, noticing the rise and fall of her chest, as her fingers lightly brushed his hair back from his face.  
It had been a long time since he had experienced anything like the calm that coursed through his body as he lay against her. Since he had let himself be so unguarded. He has so many questions he wanted to ask. Things he needed to say. But for now, he was just content to be.


End file.
